‘James Acaster: Repertoire’ on Netflix Collects All Three Of His Comedy Specials (Plus One More)

Critics across the pond have heaped mountains of praise upon the 33-year-old comedian. For five consecutive Augusts from 2012-2016, Acaster found his one-man shows of observational stand-up and storytelling nominated among the best of the fest at the Edinburgh Fringe. Last year, Acaster toured his three most recent shows (Recognise; Represent; Reset) as a three-night “Trelogy” in 14 cities across the U.K., and developed a fourth show, Recap, wholly made of inside jokes whose punchlines only hit home if you’ve watched all three previous shows.

It’s an audacious move, and presenting all four shows in one Netflix collection, James Acaster: Repertoire, makes for an even more audacious debut in America.

Acaster’s style and substance stands out more in Britain than it does in America, as we have an overabundance of observational comedians creating narrative arcs who can surprise you with a well-timed callback or a subtle reference that pays off at the end of an hour.

But he does stand out.

Looking like a young Conan O’Brien (or for comedy nerds, a mix between O’Brien and Brian Stack), and sounding like a young John Oliver (or for you aforementioned comedy nerds, Daniel Kitson), Acaster exhibits parts of what make all of those comedians great, from parts both whimsical and thought-provoking.

The three parts of Acaster’s “Trelogy,” which run on average about 50 minutes, each carry a brazen story at its core, then allow tangents to spin out on the tiniest of observational threads

In Episode One: Recognize, Acaster jokes about finding loopholes in offers and in life, before revealing that he only wanted to be a drug dealer when he grew up so he could fulfill his true dream of working as an undercover cop. He keeps up this presumptuous premise, even if his cover forces him to play the role of stand-up comedian, until a final reveal that perhaps he wrote the show to process another momentous life event instead. No matter how true any of this may be, it’s an intriguing enough ride.

From there, the second episode, Represent, ostensibly recounts his experience serving jury duty, but from beginning to end gets sidetracked by more personal existential crises, as Acaster wonders at one point, what came before the Big Bang?; at another, how he could possibly assign a happiness score to his own smile. That latter question, posed during a dentist visit, makes Acaster so physically uncomfortable that he moves the stage furniture around throughout his retelling of it. By the end, he’ll have proven the humorous value in the phrase: “That’s an hour of my life I’m not getting back.”

Episode Three: Reset, finds Acaster blending into the background, honey brown on brown on brown. The story finds him wondering about a different kind of disappearance, entering a witness protection program. Or failing that, at least expressing our common desire for a fresh start. Along the way, he’ll ponder a foolish yet foolproof supermarket scam, and find room to veer into more complicated global dilemmas, such as the spoils of British imperialism. Once more, he experiences an existential crisis of sorts, although this one feels more honest, as Acaster dwells on dealing with the emotions left from bad shows or bad audiences. And he acknowledges “certain aspects of my own personality I’d like to change. A bit too wacky for my tastes.”

Nothing gets wackier than the idea for his fourth installment in the collection. Acaster begins Recap in mid-thought, whereas the entirety of his show actually takes place in a time before Recognize.

Acaster explained in doing press for Recap last year that he’d been inspired by the Star Wars franchise’s spin-off, Rogue One: “This show might only make sense if you’ve seen my other three shows. It’s funny anyway. Most of the material in this show is from my 2011-2013 shows. Rogue One was so cool!”

Much like Rogue One, though, you’ll really have to love the Acaster franchise to enjoy Recap.

Regardless, perhaps it’s best to keep in mind something the comedian tells us near the very start of his first episode of this collection. “The gig’s not about you. It’s about me, start to finish.”